


Interlude #2

by UP2L8



Series: Sex Shop AU [17]
Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-10
Updated: 2019-09-10
Packaged: 2020-10-13 16:08:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20585273
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UP2L8/pseuds/UP2L8
Summary: Smut. Fluff. Not necessarily in that order. That's it.





	Interlude #2

**Author's Note:**

> See the summary.

Roy got home late. The summit was over. His staff had covered it from every angle and Roy was satisfied with the result, from the well documented broadcasts, through hard hitting op-ed, to the candid participant interviews. It had been a grueling week, but it had been more than worth it. 

At this point Roy had been awake for nearly two days straight, barely eating, coffee and adrenaline the only things keeping him going. His plan was to down a bowl of oatmeal to quiet his grumbling stomach and then pass out in his bed. Forget the shower. Screw brushing his teeth. No alarm would be set. He had no intention of being anywhere near consciousness for the next twenty-four hours. 

By the time he’d finished his oatmeal he was practically nodding off at the table. Turning off lights as he made his way to his bedroom was almost too much of a chore, but he finally made it. Shedding his clothes, he dragged on some sleep pants and a tee-shirt before crawling gratefully into the comfort of his bed, ready to let go of the world. 

An hour later Roy gave up on trying to sleep and threw the covers back with a sigh. His eyelids still felt like lead weights, but he was beyond over tired while still running high on adrenaline – not a good combo. Grabbing his bathrobe from the hook on the door, he decided on the living room as an easeful destination. 

The hall and stairwell were dark, but he would have known his way blindfolded through this old house. The floors and steps were carpeted, but Roy’s bare feet chilled quickly in the cool of central air conditioning. He didn't bother going back for a pair of slippers; he could always put his feet up on the couch and flip his crocheted throw over them. 

The living room always seemed warmer than the rest of the house, and Roy had long ago decided that it had more to do with atmosphere than temperature. He padded into a room lit by the glow of a full moon through tall windows. Shutting the French doors behind him, Roy breathed a long, slow sigh of relief, feeling the burdens of his busy week lift from his shoulders. No matter what problems prevented his peaceful rest, they always seemed easier to bear on those nights when he took refuge here, as if simply shutting a door could shelter him from his woes. 

Roy had bought this house after he resigned his commission, prodded and pushed into it through the lethargy of depression by Maes and Riza. Advertised as a fixer upper, it had needed extensive renovation to bring it into the modern world, but Roy had insisted that it retain the feel of old school luxury expressed in its natural design with only the barest contemporary inflection. Between refurbishing his new home, restoring his Mustang, and with the help of his friends, Roy had finally been able to start digging himself out of the aftermath of his term of service. He was still a work in progress. 

It had been Aunt Chris and Roy’s sisters who had taken on the task of furnishing Roy’s home, and they had really outdone themselves, particularly with the sitting room. With Roy’s comfort as their focus, the result was a cozy refuge from the stressors of modern living. The stonework fireplace and darkwood mantle were original, and the women had matched the décor of the living room to play up its rustic accent perfectly. From the paintings on the walls to the comfortable furnishings, Roy’s living room was infused with the imprint of cherished age like fragrant smoke. The books on the shelves, the faithfully-dusted keepsakes gracing end tables and nooks, the favored spirits kept at the bar by the window, all contributed to making this Roy’s favorite place in the world. 

Pouring himself a tumbler of whiskey, Roy retreated to the couch, sinking into its overstuffed cushions with a sigh and pulling the throw over his legs. 

Ah, comfort. 

There was just one thing missing that would make his comfort complete. 

Roy pushed the thought away with a grin. Nursing his drink, he considered his state of mind. He was more tired than he could recall being in a long time, exhausted by the long hours and furious pace of his investigation, but unfortunately, not at all sleepy. It seemed as if his mind had forgotten how to turn itself off, playing the events of the past few days at random on a closed loop. Leaning his head back and closing his eyes, he wasn’t sure how to stop it. 

It took about twenty minutes for Roy’s overactive mind to circle back around to thoughts of the single missing piece of his relaxation puzzle. Sitting on a comfortable couch and sipping good whiskey was as good a time as any to calmly consider how his life had changed in so short a time, and the reason. 

Which was, of course, Edward. They had only known each other for a total of nine months. Less than a year. Yet Roy felt closer to Edward than to people he had known far longer. He had always scoffed at those – Maes for one – who claimed that there was a special someone for everyone in the world, a perfect life partner. A soulmate. Roy had called bullshit, time and again. 

Until now. Now he kind of got it. 

Now, he couldn’t even imagine his life without Edward in it. 

People often spoke of falling in love in ways that made it sound like a swift, vertical plunge. In reality, for Roy at least, it had been a slow drift, like a feather spinning in delicate descent, listing through capricious currents of air, finally lighting gently upon the ground. Roy hadn’t consciously noticed the journey; he had arrived at his ultimate destination frankly surprised. 

And absolutely delighted. 

Getting up, Roy refilled his glass and pulled out his phone on the way back to the couch. Surely it wasn’t too late to text a busy university student. Unless things had changed drastically since his own postsecondary days, one in the morning was the late night equivalent to lunchtime for normal people. Opening his messenger app, he tapped the thread at the top of his list. 

_<Are you awake?> _

Sure enough, Ed’s response was almost immediate. 

_<Yup.>_

_<Can I call you?>_

In his current state, thumb typing was too much work. 

_<Yup?>_

Ed answered on the first ring. 

"Hey Roy, everything okay?" he asked, concern transmitting clearly. 

“Everything’s fine,” Roy answered, unable to keep the goofy grin off his face. 

"Are you in bed?" 

"No." Roy sipped his whiskey. “It’s been a busy week and I think I’m too tired to sleep.” 

"That's too bad.” Roy could hear his cheeky smile. “If I was there, I’m sure we could find something to do that would settle you down.” Then he sighed, apologetic. “Can’t leave right now, though. Winry’s out with friends and I can’t leave Al alone.” 

Roy hadn’t expected him to. That wasn’t why he had called. “No, that’s fine. Just wanted to talk,” he explained. 

"That I can do," Edward agreed, "Want to tell me about your week?" 

Did he? 

Now that he had Ed on the phone, Roy realized that he didn’t have anything he really wanted to talk about. For a man who could verbally maneuver around heads of state and political opponents with ease and bullshit like there was no tomorrow, it was frankly embarrassing. 

But then again, Ed wasn’t some social or political bigshot that Roy had to finesse. Ed was his boy friend. His lover. And Ed _loved_ him. He’d said so. Roy didn’t have to say, or do, or be anything but himself around Ed. Ed accepted him just as he was. And that had a profound effect on Roy’s state of mind. Just the sound of Ed’s voice was enough to bring Roy peace, a spring breeze warming Roy’s winter soul. 

And the thought of Ed being hurt had ignited a rage so intense it had been all he could do to hold himself back from beating Councillor Raven to a bloody pulp right there in the Bradley at the IFF gala. Oddly enough, it had been Olivier Armstrong who had locked an arm through his, refusing to allow him to confront the man, speaking lowly of far better ways to see him pay. 

And Raven would. Dearly. Roy wasn’t the only one who would see to that.

"Roy? Still there?" Edward asked at last, and Roy realized he'd been sitting there lost in thought for a minute or more.

"Not, exactly? Can’t sleep, can’t focus, can’t think of anything to say," he began and stopped, not quite certain where to go from there. “I’m a mess.” 

“Want me to tell you a story?” There was a cheeky grin in that question. 

“What, like I’m five?” Roy snorted. 

“Sometimes I think you are.” Ed’s tone had become distinctly fond. “I could read you a few of these assignments I’m marking. Some of them are hilarious, holy shit. Or . . .” 

Roy waited, a smile growing on his lips. 

“Tell me, Roy,” Ed’s voice was deliciously low and silky, “what are you wearing?” 

Roy’s sharp intake of breath whistled through a suddenly dry mouth. Caught off guard, he groped around his suddenly hyperaware mind for a response. 

He couldn’t come up with one fast enough. 

"When I ask you what you're wearing, you're supposed to tell me,” Ed explained patiently. “You could say, 'Oh, the usual, a three-piece suit like that one I wore when we went to the IFF’, which, by the way, drove me crazy all night; I couldn’t stop thinking about of peeling it off you. With my teeth. Or you could say, ‘A pair of My Little Pony boxers and a feather boa. I’m stunning in anything’, which is actually true, but I’ll never admit I said that, so forget I did. Or ‘Why would you assume I’m wearing anything?’ which sounds like something you’d say, you smug bastard. Feel free to jump in any time." 

Roy snorted. Trust Ed to make him laugh even while trying to sex him up by phone. 

"I'm picturing you the day we met, in those tight, faded jeans," Ed rambled on. "That blue bomber jacket showcased your ass perfectly, very distracting. I kept sneaking peeks the whole time you were in the store." 

Roy hadn’t noticed, probably because he had been casually checking Ed out at the time as well. 

“I’m wearing my flame patterned pyjama pants, a white tee, and my blue robe,” Roy supplied. 

“Mmm.” Ed’s purr buzzed straight to Roy’s groin. “Finally, something to work with. I bet you’re sitting in the living room, in the dark, the moonlight tinting your skin with silver. I wish I was there right now, so I could taste you. I would loosen the tie on your robe and unwrap you like a gift. Pull your shirt up. Run my fingers down your chest, follow them with my tongue.” 

Roy swallowed, hard, and had to ease up his grip on the phone. 

“Those pyjama pants ride pretty low on your hips; bet you thought I didn’t notice important details like that. They’re so loose it would be easy to tug them out of the way so your cock come out to play.” Ed spoke slowly, giving his sensual commentary time to take hold. “I could also reach in and cup your balls in my palm, give them a little squeeze, roll them over my fingers. You’d spread your legs wide to give me room to work. It wouldn’t take long for your cock to start leaking. Then I could lean in and have a taste, push my tongue into the slit, suck on the head, before I take you inside.” 

The phone got wedged between Roy’s ear and shoulder, his hands fumbling distractedly at the belt of his robe. And Ed was right; his pants were loose enough that they were easily pushed down and out of way, freeing his hardened cock, already wet. 

“Are your balls tight, Roy?” Ed asked quietly. “Is your hand on your cock, imagining my mouth on you, taking you all the way in, my tongue teasing you, my face pressed into the short curls below your navel?” 

Roy stroked himself slowly, Ed’s words a low hungry purr urging him on. He was sure Ed could hear how his breaths hitched around faint gasps and whimpers. 

“You’d tangle your hands tight in my hair to hold me in place, and I’d get my revenge by curling my tongue just the way you like it, the way that always make you arch and squirm, scraping my teeth up underneath. You always come pretty much unglued when I do that.” 

Holy shit. Roy’s fist tightened as he pumped himself slowly, then relaxed. Tightened. Relaxed. His mind reeled with images of Ed. In bed under him, head thrown back, hair a bright halo on the pillow. On his knees, sucking him off in the shower, tanned skin slick and glistening. Roy’s fist pumped faster. 

"You like that thought, don’t you Roy? Me, down on my knees? Because that’s what I want, too. I want you in my mouth. I want you in my bed, between my legs. I want you inside me. I want to make you come so hard you forget your own name." 

"Oh, shit," Roy groaned, "Ed . . . I’m going to-" 

Coming hard, Roy banged his skull off the back of the couch as his head tipped helplessly, in silent, open-mouthed abandon. Then he slumped bonelessly down, mind hazy and sated. 

It took him a few moments to catch his breath. Ed waited patiently. 

"Um," Roy said eloquently, feeling much calmer and more inclined to curl up in his comfortable bed and let go. "Thank you,” seemed like an appropriate thing to say. 

"Anytime," Ed said, sounding smug. "Consider it the book jacket summary of what we’ll probably be up to this weekend." 

"Okay," Roy said, smiling at the thought. "I’ll consider that a promise, then." His eyelids were getting heavier by the second. 

"Sounds good to me," Ed agreed. “Good night Roy.” 

"Ed?” Was his voice really slurring? 

“Hang up the phone, Roy.” Fondly. 

He did. 

Roy never made it to his bed that night. It was too far away, and the couch was a perfectly reasonable alternative. 

His dreams were sweet.

**Author's Note:**

> This has been sitting around since last weekend, and I needed to post it. I was too busy to give it any more than a quick read-over, so if you see any weirdness, please let me know.
> 
> Next one started.


End file.
